


The Tower

by AmethystAmaranthus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, I'm taking liberties with magic schools, Illusions, Recognition, Shapeshifting, i'll add more as they come up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystAmaranthus/pseuds/AmethystAmaranthus
Summary: In a time of great change, Atisha pauses what she is trying to accomplish on her own, to help a bigger force stop the sky from falling. Entering Skyhold to join the Inquisition to fix things, but she may slowly come to terms with just how much more she has to fight fix everything else already wrong.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelayan(minor), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Original Non-Inquisitor Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Ace of Pentacles

The wind howls across the expanse of the open air bridge, Atisha’s cloak catching the wind and allowing the air to breeze by her leather clad legs. A blade on her hip and a knife in her boot, her other hand grasping a tall twisted walking staff of ironbark. Their chatter blowing along with the wind, an elf mother holding her young babe in her arms and trying to protect them from the wind, the babe smiles and coos at her. Atisha waves a few fingers at the child. With the sun in her eyes she glances up at the looming fortress, how it’s built into the mountain top. The approach to the front gates shroud in shadow, and significantly cooler than the sunny bridge. Peeking out over the stone ledge, watching the clouds move below her. Looking up and eyes to the gate she strolls inside the fortress that holds The Inquisition.

“This is _Tarasyl’an Te’las_ ,” Atisha whispers to herself, eyes grazing the front yard, soldiers milling about a couple of merchants toward the stables as well as a couple soldiers directing some refugees. Making her way across the yard, slinging the staff to settle on her pack, she steps up to the table. She shakes her hood out as she lowers her it, the soldier, when he looks up at her approach, just stares at her for a short moment. _Which is he staring at first?_ She asks herself before opening her mouth to speak.

“Where--” she begins.

“Here’s a blanket,” he interrupts her, thrusting a small wool blanket into her torso, forcefully, “refugees can find work and shelter with Rin over by the servants entrance around the corner,”

“I don’t ne--,” she begins to refuse.

“NEXT!” he shouts over her, she slams the blanket back on his table, but proceeds in the direction of this woman to see if she’ll talk to her. 

The woman in question is a middle-aged elven woman with a warm smile on her clean face. When the woman’s eyes land on Atisha her eyebrows raise in surprise. As Atisha gets close enough to talk to her the woman, Rin, opens her mouth, “You’re Dalish,” she breathes, “where’s your clan,”

“Former,” Atisha corrects her, “and they’re too far North to care what’s happening on the other side of The Waking Sea,”

“Oh, are you a mage? Is that why you left?”

“No, not a mage, this is the last walking stick my grandfather made before,...” Atisha breathes, as if to calm herself, “before he died,”

“Oh,” Rin gasps, “I’m so sorry,”

“It was years ago, it’s okay,” Atisha smiles at her to brush it off. Atisha clears her throat, “Anyway, I’m here to help, I don’t particularly no anyone here, but I’m a bard mostly from the North,”

“You should go see the Spymaster Leliana, she’s at the top of the tower,” Rin encourages, “otherwise we can always use help in the kitchens,”

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” Atisha thanks Rin.

“ _Dareth Shiral_ ,” 

Following Rin’s instructions, she turns around on her heel to walk through the bustle of refugees and soldiers, for the long staircase to the interior. Stepping into the great hall, there was tall scaffolding against some of the walls repairing damage. A modest throne in front of the floor to ceiling stained glass. Taking it all in she turns to her right remembering this as the side the tower Rin gestured to would be on, and makes her way to the closest door on that side. A beardless dwarf in a red shirt sits at a small table by a fireplace just outside that door. Atisha stops at his table.

“Leliana through here?” she asks of the dwarf.

He leans back in his chair and gives her a once over, “Yeah, she could probably use someone like you,” he comments, more to himself than to her, his eyes linger on the staff, “you a mage?”

“No, my grandfather made it,”

“Uh huh,” he ponders for a short moment before leaning forward onto the table, “What’s your story?”

“What?” 

“What brought you to Skyhold?”

“The tear in the sky is a little troublesome, and the Inquisition seems to be the only one whose noticed it as such, I was just in Starkhaven when news came around about the loss of Haven,”

“A Dalish Freemarcher, I have a friend who was from clan Sabrae,”

“I’m from further North,”

He observes her for another short moment before introducing himself, “Varric Tethras,” he holds out his hand to her.

“Atisha,” she says in return, grasping his hand and giving it a shake.

“Atisha of the north, where’s your clan?”

“Just west of Antiva,” Atisha answers before going through the door letting it close behind her. She goes toward the stairs once she sees them, but immediately stops when she notices the paintings through the open door way. She takes a couple of steps into the rotunda, and looks at the painting, admiring the way it seamlessly tells a story with different scenes. She does a quick turn around but no one is in the room, only the furniture of the room and some lit candles, none of which are on the desk at the center of the room. Remembering her current mission, she walks back toward the stairs with one last look at the painting before it’s out of sight.

She makes note of the fact that the immediate next floor is the library, _This will be handy to know_. A quick glance at those in the library before she continues up toward the crow’s nest.  
The cawing of birds, fluttering of wings, and rustling of papers, are the sounds that greet her before she sees any of these things. She recognizes the inquisition uniform on three of the people who are all tending to the crows with missives or just feeding, and then a single woman in a purple outfit under her chainmail. This woman Atisha immediately goes to approach, the woman doesn’t look at her as she approaches, just continuing to ruffle through the papers on the surface of the table in front of her. Upon finding the one she was looking for she plucks it out of the pile, and finally acknowledges Atisha’s presence.

“You’re Dalish!” the woman exclaims.

“No,” Atisha responds simply.

“Mage?” the woman eyes Atisha’s staff.

Atisha rolls her eyes before correcting her, “bard.”

“Really,” the woman asks, interested. “Orlais?”

Atisha shakes her head no, “Tevinter,”

“That’s a long journey,”

“Yes, and there’s a problem affecting all of Thedas,”

“You’re aware of--”

“I’m aware of the cultists, all more why I would be helpful,”

“We have a mage from Tevinter with us already,”

“Look I’m not gonna tell you I’m better than them, but you and I both know what I mean when I tell you I’m a bard, the game is played everywhere,”

“What do the Dalish know of the game?”

“The Dalish don’t know a lot, but I have seen it played enough in Tevinter and Antiva to be of use in plenty of ways.”

The woman stands up straight, crosses her arms, and observes Atisha for a moment pondering. She drops her arms, “Alright, I might have a job for you, give me some time and I’ll send for you to discuss it.” She holds her hand out, “You probably already know I am Leliana, and you are?”

Atisha moves to grasp her hand tight with a curt firm shake before letting go, “Atisha,”

“Atisha, there should be open quarters down by the kitchens, while you wait to hear back from me, I know Rin would love some extra hands in the kitchen always,” Leliana pauses, “you don’t have to, but it might do you some good,”

“Thank you,” Atisha says before turning to walk back to the staircase. Hand on the railing she turns back around to Leliana, taps her finger on the railing in contemplation of asking the question on the tip of her tongue. “The paintings downstairs,” she pauses, Leliana lifts her head to look over at her, “who painted them,”

“Ah yes, Solas is painting them to document Charlie’s actions, I don’t see why, everything is being written for historical purposes,” Atisha nods, before turning back around and exiting down the staircase.

At the bottom of the rotunda, she takes another glance of the frescoes on the walls, and turns to exit back to the main hall. Varric still sits in his spot by the fire, this time he’s reading a book. Atisha doesn’t care to read the title, she just nods as he looks up at her, before she leaves the hall to go back down and around to talk with Rin again.

***

Rin is still outside, pulling up water from the well, with which looks like some containers she is trying to fill for the kitchens. Atisha sets her pack and staff down by the well, and reaches for the rope Rin is pulling to lift the pail of water.

“Here,” Atisha speaks without looking over to Rin, “let me help,”

The older elven woman smiles, and welcomes the extra help, “ _Ma serannas_ ,”

“How many containers do you have to fill?” Atisha asks.

“After all of these are filled for the kitchens I have two larger ones to fill and carry to the tavern and the war room.”

“I’ll help you fill and carry them, and then you can show me to a place where I might sleep tonight?”

“Oh, I can definitely do that!” Rin exclaims, ever grateful for the help with such a task.

Atisha just smiles back at her as she pulls the first pail of water onto the ledge of the well to be poured into one of the other containers on the ground.

They work together in a comfortable silence. “You look like you’d be the same age as my son,” Rin says, an air of melancholy in her voice. “I haven’t seen him in so long,”

Atisha hesitates before asking, “What happened to him?”

“He was taken to the Circle Tower, when he was ten,” she spoke solemnly, “He used to send letters to me for my birthday, the templars allowed that much I suppose, but I haven’t heard from him since the rebellion started. I just,--” she breaks off with a sob. “I just always wonder if he was born to the Dalish how his life would have been so different.” 

Once the pail is up on the ledge, Atisha lets it go and gently lays her hands on Rin’s shoulders as Rin wipes the tears away from her eyes. “I can’t speak for all Dalish clans, but they do value magic, but also know that they can’t harbor too many mages among them, it could have been better for him or it could have been just as bad.”

“If he remained with the circle mages, chances are high he’s in servitude to Tevinter now, or--” she breathes in a struggling breath, “or he’s dead,” she finalizes with another sob. 

Atisha steps closer to her, hands sliding from her shoulders to her back giving her a comforting hug, “Only you can decide how you want to perceive it for yourself, find solace in that for yourself, you are a strong formidable woman,”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re here, you could have stayed in your alienage, you could have stayed in your sorrow, but you chose the hope that’s in your heart to continue to help, as much as you can,”

Rin wipes more tears away from her eyes, sniffles and gives a small laugh, “I feel so embarrassed now.” She steps back from Atisha, takes the pail they just pulled up and pours it into one the containers at her feet. Atisha smiles at her in return before taking the pail back and re-lowering it back into the well for more water. They continue to work together with idle conversation between the two of them until all the pitchers and tanks have been filled, and delivered.

Dropping off the last tank of water in the war room, Atisha re-saddled with her pack and staff, Rin turns to her and asks “To your new quarters then?”

Atisha nods, “Please,”

“Of course,” Rin leads Atisha through a door on the exit through the Ambassador’s office, and down the stairs. “This is an easy quick root, it takes you through a few different places, but hardly anyone comes down here, unless they work in the kitchens. At the bottom of the stairs is a fairly large space for a lower level of the fortress, it was also empty except for the mess of debris that had yet to be cleaned up from when the Inquisition first arrived at the keep. Rin continues to lead her through, she gestures to the open door to the kitchens, “This is the kitchen, and over here,” she continues walking toward a short hallway that has a door she pulls open to reveal another set of stairs down. “Is the staircase to the servant quarters, and your room,” she trails off as she begins the climb down the stairs, and through the hallway to the last room on the left, “is your room,” she opens the door and steps through, holding the door for Atisha behind her. “You have a bed a small chest of drawers, and some candles if you need extra light, we haven’t had to double bunk yet, so no need to worry about that yet,” Rin pauses hand on the exterior doorknob, “if you don’t need anything I’ll let you be for the night, and thank you again for your help today,”

“Where can one get a drink around here?”

“Oh, that’d be Herald’s Rest, a handful of us go after our work day is over, if you wanna come with us,” Rin offers.

“Sure, that sounds like it could be fun,”

“I’ll come by and get you when we head that way,”

“I’m gonna take a nap, come in and wake me if I don’t say anything,”

“Will do,”

Rin leaves the doorway, and Atisha shuts the door leaning her staff in the corner behind the door, she shrugs her pack off at the foot of the bed, then collapses her body on the bed. Her body physically exhausted, and her mind just as mentally worn out. Atisha pulls her body further toward the headboard of the bed to be able to lay her head on the pillow and pull the rest of her body onto the softest surface she’s laid on in a while. With little influence outside of that she falls to sleep.


	2. The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She dreams of moments she misses, as she settles in to be acquainted with new companions around her.

Atisha is running in the woods, she is unburdened of possessions, merely clad in dark brown linen pants with brown leather foot wrappings up to her knees, no cloak around her shoulders, only a cropped dark green loose sleeveless shirt, nothing to distract her free movements. She isn’t running from anyone, or to anything, merely running for that freeing of feeling of never having to stop. Running uphill and downhill, before she reaches the end of a woods at a cliff side. When looking out she can see the sun setting over more mountains of trees, she recognizes herself to be in the mountains outside of Tevinter.

In the distance she hears the howl of the wolves of the pack that protects the elven village. Pinpointing their location she takes off in a run down to find her way down to the wolf pack. They’ve been kind to her, and those she’s taken in from Tevinter, and she enjoys their company. Having been busy within the Imperium she hasn’t had the joy of a run with them in a couple of months. Her elven legs bring her down that mountainside easy enough and her magic helps shift her body into that of a wolf in a graceful leap as she takes off toward the sunset, and the waterfall she knows them to be gathered at. Her coat is a mix of light reds, and dark greys. 

Atisha slows her quick run, as she approaches the pack through the thinning trees. Three of the seven wolves are sniffing around something she can’t see closest to the water, the remaining to greet her as she approaches the water for a drink. Not because she’s thirsty, more so because of her own curiosity. As one of the wolves steps out of her way for water, she sees a tired elven man, the first two things she noticed was the thick pelt around his shoulders, and his shaved head. He seems to be nearly asleep, unsure if he’s only tired or if he is ill as well, she spots his open canteen, and grabs it in her mouth to carry it to the reservoir of water, and dunks her whole head in to fill the canteen, carefully she tries to bring it back to him. Another of the wolves moves out of her way for her to present it to him, in front of his face and closest hand, for if he is conscious. He is, his eyes blink open slowly looking at her sitting there looking at him, she lowers herself into laying down facing him to look less imposing to him. He smiles at her, and wraps his long fingers around the canteen as he tries to sit up and bring it to his lips. 

“Are you new?” he asks her, reaching out with his free hand for her acceptance of him, which she sniffs before lowering her head back to lay on the grass, he pets her fur. “Or are you lost from yours as well?”

She cocks her head at him, in curiosity. He chuckles, and leans back into the wolf who was giving him mild support anyway. She approaches him closer and lays her head on his abdomen, near where his hand ended up laying. He smiles down at her again, and pets her continuously on the head.

“This world is so different,” he says, still stroking her fur, “like waking from a dream and everything just remains hazy,” Atisha moves her head to look up at him as he talks, he doesn’t stop petting her. He continues speaking to her, “They remembered their history so incorrectly, and it’s not for a lack of trying as it is a lack of the tools that were taken from them.” He stops petting her, the other hand goes to cover his face in frustration. Atisha looks up at him, what is he talking about? She asks herself. He resumes petting her. He looks straight down at her and she looks back up at his face. “Would you like to listen to the stories of the past?” she cocks an ear at the rise in his voice. 

** *

His voice carries on indistinguishable to Atisha as her mind leaves the fade, and the memory of only a year ago. To a knock at the door to her own room, of stone in a fortress so far away from the mountains of Tevinter oh her memories.

“Atisha, did you still wanna go to the tavern?” Rin asks through the door.

“Yeah,” she replies, moving her legs to the floor, “You can open the door.”

“Are you ready?” Rin asks.

Atisha combs through her hair with her fingers and starts braiding it over her right shoulder, strands of a dark auburn twining together to be tied with a leather strip. Her eyes catch her face in the looking glass, her own eyes still startled by her own vallaslin, the vallasdahlen to pay homage to Falon’din. The only thing real is the end, she thinks to herself, her own reasons for choosing this one at her own coming of age ceremony where she was named first, and just weeks later she turned her back on all that she knew. She smiles at her reflection, “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Atisha ushers Rin out of her room and closes the door before walking down the hall and up the stairs with two other elvehn servants, whose names are Nellana, and Arinna.

They have idle chatter that Atisha mostly hangs back from as she isn’t as familiar with any of them. She wraps her cloak tighter around her to keep out the chilly breeze.

Upon entrance to the bustling bright tavern, the warmth of the fire was nearly instantly felt. Rin and the others becken her to the table they grab toward the back, and furthest from the bar. She goes to the bar first, opening up a tab and heading back to the table with Rin, with a stein full of Antivan Sip-Sip. She sees Varric sitting at a table, as she passes by he nods at her, and she nods in return before sitting at the chair that the other three left open for her.

“How do you know Varric Tethras!?” Nellana asks excitedly as Atisha sits in her seat.

“I only just spoke with him today,” Atisha answers, like it’s not a big deal, because to her it isn’t. “Also, he’s part of the Inquisition, it’s not like he’s some untouchable higher up,”

“But he’s friends with the Inquisitor herself!” Arinna jumps in. “Not mention a famed author,”

“And he’s a regular person who likes to sit in warm places to read,” Atisha responds. “Relax,”

The chatter at the table dissolves away from Varric, and by proxy away from Atisha herself, she just sits listening as the conversation moves across the three of them, commenting here or there when she can, until her drink is empty. She makes eye contact with Rin across from her, raising her empty stein to indicate where she was going as the other two continued their friendly banter. 

Atisha sets her stein on the bar indicating she’d like another, while she waits, Varric approaches her. “You owe me a story,” he states mildly suggestively.

“Do I?” she counters.

“If you want your drinks picked up you do,”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Atisha agrees to Varric’s terms.

Atisha turns back around to the bar, her refilled stein and Varric’s as well. He grabs his own and gestures her to follow him to a small table closer to the fire, where the bard, and the surrounding idle chatter are so indistinguishable that their own conversation would be as well. Atisha settles into her seat first, and as Varric scoots into the table more, he asks “So, what’s your story?”

“What part are you looking for?”

“Anything that’s interesting,”

“Such as? I don’t think it’s as interesting as you seem to think it is,” Atisha leans back in her chair crossing her arms.

“What happened to your clan?”

“Left.”

“Just like that?” she nods as she picks up her drink for a drink, Varric raises his eyebrows.

Pulling the stein away from her lips, “but,” she begins, setting her drink down on the table, “we have a friend in common,” she rewards.

“Really?” Varric leans back in his chair pondering who it could be. Atisha picks up her drink and takes a long drink as Varric sits back up again. “It could be most of them,” he ponders aloud, Atisha makes a face of acknowledged agreement before taking another drink. “Hopefully it’s not blondie,” he looks up at Atisha, and she shakes her head ‘no’. A moment longer passes and Atisha finishes her drink. She stands once again gesturing to the empty stein, this time at Varric, as she moves to replenish her beverage.

When she returns to the table with Varric full beverage in hand once again, before she sits down Varric gives his final guess, “it’s Fenris isn’t it?”

She nods into her drink.

“What’s he up to now, last I heard he was hunting Tevinter slavers.”

“He’s still doing that and helping me protect a village of freed Tevinter slaves,”

“Never thought he’d settle down.”

“What!?” she almost choked on her drink, “No, he kills the baddies, I rescue the helpless we’re just a team,” She inhales and ponders for a moment before speaking again, “unless he’d ever get with Lyra, she’s got cutest puppy-eyes for him really,”

“I’ll have to tease him about that later,” Varric plots.

“Please do,”

Varric changes the tone of conversation, “Are you a mage?”

“Is it the ears?” she jokes at his question, “every lone elf is a mage,” she pauses for comedic effect which awarded her a chuckle from Varric, “I’m a bard,”

“Really?”

“Is it so hard to believe?”

“Well, no but it’s suspicious when you’re an elf from Tevinter, with your face tattoos and not a mage, and unaccompanied.”

“And what mage would admit in the presence of the Inquisition an institution set in place by the Chantry, the very thing that inspired the mage rebellion, to being a mage?” Atisha counters.

“Fairpoint,”

Both of them take a drink of their own beverage before clearing the air. “So what’s the inquisitor like?” Atisha asks.

“Charlie? She’s wary of mages, she’s from Ostwick which isn’t too far from Kirkwall. She’s got the most obvious liking to Cassandra, who is oblivious, there’s a betting pool if you're interested. 

“With everyone helping her prepare for the Winter Palace she doesn’t seem concerned with anything to do with Ambassador Briala. Most of the time when she’s away from Skyhold you won’t see Cassandra, or The Iron Bull, she takes Dorian incase of Venatori, otherwise she trusts Vivienne the most of the mages. The shorter fade or rift related outings she drags Solas as he is the most knowledgeable on those matters, but they’re short trips because they don’t particularly get along with one another.”

“Half of what you just said made no sense to me, but Solas is the one who did the paintings in the rotunda, right?” Atisha asks for clarification.

“Yeah, don’t play him in a game of Wicked Grace, just ask Cullen,”

Atisha chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

They both go back to their drinks for a moment of silence between them when someone joins them at their table pulling up a chair. Varric looks over at them and his expression changes to one of delightful recognition.

“Ah, Sparkler come to join Canary and I for a drink,”

Atisha looks at Varric with a raised eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything over the nickname he’s presented her with.

“Ah, a pretty little songbird Dalish,” the exuberant human comments, pulling a chair over to their table and joining them.

“Not Dalish,” Varric corrects the man behind his drink.

“No?” the man questions looking to Atisha, she quickly shakes her head no. He holds her hand out to her and introduces himself, “Dorian of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathous.”

Atisha accepts his offered hand, “Atisha, party of one,”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair, as a server sets a glass of red wine in front of him. “So, what has our storyteller dwarf found so fascinating about you?”

Atisha shrugs behind her drink.

Varric answers for her, “She’s an ex-Dalish bard who hops across Rivain to Tevinter,”

“Really, don’t see many elves with your,” he gestures at her face, “in the Imperium,” 

“You mean my vallaslin?” she shrugs it off, “You don’t, no, I suppose that’s what makes me such a hot commodity over there,” she half jokes.

“I bet so many of the men would find you to be quite an exotic,”

Atisha snorts at this, “that among other things, men are gross wherever you go,”

Dorian laughs at her slight to his gender, before finishing his glass of wine and gesturing to the server for another glass. 

“You keep saying you’re a bard, but I have yet to see it,” Varric says suggestively.

“If you’re asking for a little song and dance I’m gonna need you to ply me with more alcohol,” she retorts before finishing her second drink and placing her now empty stein on the table.

“That can be arranged,” Dorian says, giving Varric a look and gesturing again at the server for another of what Atisha was drinking. 

* **

Pleasantly inebriated Atisha leads the whole tavern in some well-known jigs, a couple a little more unfamiliar but good fun all the same. She stands on a table by the stairs, Maryden, the bard already playing in the tavern, assists in playing the lute in accompaniment with her, becoming fast friends working together. Outside the sound of muffled arguing grows louder, before the doors burst open, and an angry woman clad in leather armor plastered with mud, blood, and ichor, blonde hair tousled about. Followed closely by a just-as-angry bald elvhen man.

“Inquisitor!” he exclaims trying to regain the woman’s attention. “We need to--”

“Enough!” The woman interrupts him, she turns to him sharply, hair whipping about, “I just spent the better half of a month with your company, closing rifts across Ferelden. As far as I am concerned I deserve a reprieve from you!”

The elvhen man clearly wants to say more. Atisha’s eyes catch Dorian and Varric moving toward the angry pair. Dorian leading the man out of the tavern, and Varric leading the woman, the Inquisitor, to a farther reclusive table. Atisha never saw his face.


	3. Two of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atisha still feels out of place at Skyhold until Leliana summons her for a job, and she finally meets face-to-face with Solas.

Waking up, Atisha stretches her limbs under her sheets, hearing the familiar cracks from some of her joints as she does so. As her eyes try to blink her awake, and her mind stirs back into the waking world, she startles herself. The feeling of the softer bed than she’s used to being underneath her, gives her a small moment of adrenaline as she pulls her legs into herself as she sits up. Glancing around the room she quickly remembers where she is, and why she is here. Atisha tries to relax herself, letting her legs re-stretch out in front of her. Now she feels antsy, anxious for something to do. There’s a glass of water on the small night table next to her with a small note. 

__

_Thought you’d need this when you wake up.  
Rin_

Thinking her silently in her head, she picks up the glass of water and practically pours it down her dry throat. With the glass empty and her throat feeling much better Atisha swings her feet to the floor to get dressed for the day ahead. She quickly laces up her boots before bounding out the door cup in hand on her way to the kitchens. With no windows around she has no idea how to gage what time it is. Opening the door to the kitchens the first thing she is greeted with is the warmth that pools out, and the ambient noise and idle chatter inside. The second is when some of the servants turn to her, and start applauding.

Atisha wears a confused expression as she walks to the closest surface near the sink to set down her empty glass. Nellana, one of the girls from last night, approaches her with a smile and a plate of eggs and toast. 

“Everyone enjoyed your performance last night,” Nellana says with a smile while gesturing Atisha to the center table and a chair to eat at, Nellana sits next to her. 

Atisha sits heavily into the chair, “I drank that much?” she asks, placing her forehead in her palm, rubbing at her face to try and rid her mind of the grogginess she is facing. 

“Well, Varric kept buying you drinks and Dorian helped you up to the table, and Maryden accompanied you, while you sang and danced, I don’t know if I’ve seen the tavern that jovial since the Inquisition found Skyhold.” Nellana explains while sliding her a cup of black tea.

“Well, as long as it was a good time I guess no harm no foul right?”

“Yeah, until the Inquisitor came in, with an argument then it quickly died down, but it was fun while it lasted.” Nellana pours her own tea from the pot.

“I vaguely remember this,” Atisha mumbles as she raises the teacup to her lips, its warmth on her hand already making her feel better. She takes a sip, testing how hot it was, which was just a touch hotter than she prefers. “Who was the man she was arguing with?”

“That was Solas, he’s a mage who studies the fade, and I think that alone is why she even talks to him,” Nellana pauses, blowing on her tea, without taking a sip yet, “If he wasn’t so knowledgeable about the fade, I’m pretty sure, she would have murdered him by now,” She laughs lightly.

“Why?” Atisha takes a bite out of her buttered toast.

“He’s an apostate, and they have very differing opinions on, mages, magic, and some such,” Nellana pauses again takes another sip of her tea, “He’s nice and polite, but there’s something about him that unnerves some of us,” she pauses again and raises the teacup to her lips again, but pulls it back down, “Not that we dislike him, he’s never been anything but kind to us,”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Atisha stops her from rambling on more, placing her hand on Nellana’s arm that lays on the table. “Thank you for the breakfast, is there anyone here that needs any help today? I’m just trying to make myself useful, until I hear something back.”

“When you’re finished eating you can come with me to the garden pulling some veggies, and herbs,” Nellana suggests.  
“I haven’t seen the garden yet,”

“Well now you will, I’ll let you eat in peace, while a few us deliver out some meals, to the ‘generals’,” she laughs before standing up and walking off to where a man is prepping out breakfast plates on some trays. 

Atisha turns her body toward the table in front of her and eats her breakfast while it’s still warm, and with copious amounts of tea.

* * *

Atisha feels as if she’s just in the way in the kitchens while she waits for Nellana to come back and help her. She didn’t remain sitting as a couple of younger men approached the table to start on cutting up various meats and vegetables, probably for the next meal. Which leads her to exploring the small dusty library. She reads the spines on the shelves, wiping the dust off of some of them with her fingers. Most of them are in common or Orlesian, there are some in Antivan in Nevarran, even less in Rivaini, and Tevene, but what she finds most astonishing is the collection of books at the top center-most shelf entirely written in Elvhen. The only downside is that the shelf is higher than she is tall, she only could make out a few of the characters to determine they were written in Elvhen at all. Not that she knows a lot of Elvhen, let alone written Elvhen, so much history has been lost, but it was something she always kept trying for with her clan and when she left.

Atisha looks around the room for a way to get up that high, she fusses with the high-backed chair a bit, believing it sturdy enough if she could just move it close enough to the shelf. She huffs a little as she wiggles it back, it is rather heavy, but she is nothing if not determined. With the chair against the shelf she stands on the seat, still too short, just off on the arm and she’s still too short. She tries climbing onto the back of the chair, keeping her balance as to not tip too one way or the other. So far, perfect height and keeping a still uneven balance, but enough for her satisfaction, she blows the dust off of the books, trying to read more of their titles. Until her eyes land on one she can actually read. _Dinal’Lan_ , Atisha reads, _The Dying Ones_. She pulls it off the shelf with a wobble in her stance before slowly trying to climb down. Shakily she lands safely on her two feet. She spins around, and moves to leave when she bumps into Nellana.

“Atisha, you still want to help me in the garden?” 

“Yeah, I just,” Atisha gestures with the book in her hand, “I found this book, I’m gonna place it in my room real quick, wait for me?”

“Of course I’ll just get a drink of water in the kitchens,”

Atisha nods before scurrying off to her room. She sets the book on her bed, before turning back out to meet back up with Nellana. With a smile on her face about finding books to hopefully use to teach her more of the dying language of her people. 

Atisha makes it back up the stairs just as Nellana steps out from the kitchen. 

Nellana smiles when she sees her, “You ready then?”

Atisha nods, and gestures for Nellana to lead the way.

In the garden courtyard, Nellana leads Atisha to a couple of potted plants. “The potted plants are mostly for the Inquisitions apothecary, but we do share the Elfroot, so I’m just gonna clip some of it,” she informs, as she squats, and pulls out her sheers, and lays the leaves in the basket she brought wrapping them in a cotton rag. “Over-there, toward the back,” she gestures as she stands and begins walking in that direction, “is where the vegetable garden is,”

Together they both pull out some carrots, and potatoes, as well as clipping some herbs, that are purely for flavor. By now the sun is lower in the sky as they get set to head back to the kitchens. Wandering around the corner of the main hall to get to the stairs leading down, each carrying their own basket. Conversing and laughing as Nellana tells stories of some of her friends she’s made while working and living at Skyhold.

Atisha begins to wonder, _it must be so simple. Being raised outside of a clan, without magic. Even if most of it is spent serving someone else, it’s a cozy, simple life._ She reminisces her bittersweet upbringing within a Dalish clan. _No,_ she stops her thoughts, _they’re just all able to make happiness in the time they have. No one wants to spend their life as a second class person in society._ Atisha smiles at Nellana after she says something amusing. _I’m glad they have moments as these, because not every elf in Thedas can._

* * *

The next morning, Atisha having been ushered out of helping in the kitchens, something about too many hands. She finds herself in a remote spot in the garden sitting in the grass leaning her back against a tree. In her hands is the book she found, to her side is an open leather journal, and a piece of charcoal. The journal has so many many notes written on it’s pages. She’s approached in her quiet solitude by a person in an Inquisition uniform.

“The Spymaster would like to see you,”

“I’m not gonna ask you know it’s me she’s after, if you don’t know me, but I figure there aren’t many ex-Dalish or otherwise here,” Atisha responds. “Just go on up to her crow’s nest?”

They nod an affirmation before turning and leaving the garden themself. Atisha places a braid of different fabrics in between the pages she was reading before closing the book. Closing her journal and tucking the charcoal away and a small pouch on her hip she stands carrying her books, and heads back into the main hall, leaving the ambience of the quiet garden behind. Passing by Varric, no eye contact but a quick casual fist bump Varric initiated in passing, almost already having a weird non-verbal conversation. _Drinks later?_ **Bump** _Of course_. Sliding right through the rotunda, she never noticed the man painting on the scaffolding. She makes eye contact with Dorian as she passes by and he nods, no non-verbal communication here. Ascending the stairs to the desk of Spymaster of the Inquisition, Leliana. Leliana is sitting writing something at the desk this time when she approaches.

“You wanted to see me?” Atisha asks, pausing a foot or so away from the desk.

“Yes,” Leliana confirms, standing reading the paper she’d just written to make sure she made no mistakes, before handing it off to the spy behind her to seal, and send off. “I have a job for you, a couple really, but let’s walk and talk, the daylight sun could do us some good,”

“Alright,” Atisha affirms with a nod.

“Good,” Leliana steps around the desk and leads them, back down the stairs, through the library down into the rotunda and through another door onto the battlements. Walking out of the shade and into the sunlight is where Leliana stops and looks out into the surrounding mountains of the Frostbacks. “The job is assisting in finding artifacts to strengthen the veil. The Inquisitor is a busy woman, and one of her companions thinks it’s a good idea to prevent more rifts appearing. And since her mark isn’t necessary, she has allowed her companion to take lead of a small party to look and activate these artifacts.”

“Okay?” Atisha affirms, “I need a bit more information, half of that didn’t quite make sense,”

“I’m sorry, of course, Solas is one of our few mages at Skyhold, he believes these artifacts he knows of that are scattered across Thedas can help strengthen the veil against more rifts being formed. The Inquisitor agrees, but doesn’t believe she can spend time trying to find all of them with our true enemy being known. So, she tasked me with supplying one of my people to accompany Solas, as well as Commander Cullen supplying one of his own.”

“That makes much more sense, I appreciate it,” Atisha remarks relieved it wasn’t something else. 

“Yes, um, The Inquisitor, suggests doing a couple weeks at a time, so Solas can continue his research, and I can use you on other tasks, so you won’t be gone indefinitely.”

“Sounds well enough, I haven’t met Solas yet, but --”

“Now the other job,” Leliana interrupts. “It’s not spying, just,” she pauses, “use some of this time to get close to Solas, and report back to me on anything unusual or misleading,”

“Okay, I get that, but may I ask why?”

“We don’t, ‘not trust’ him persay, but he’s an apostate and some of us are worried of his potential intentions post-crisis. He was very vocal when we didn’t assist the mages in Redcliffe. Don’t go digging, but if he takes confidence in you anything you think we should here please come to me,”

Atisha affirms with a nod, “I can do that,” her face remains controlled, _Humans untrustworthy of elvhen mages, of fucking course it is,_ Atisha thought with an internal grimace. She was beginning to like Leliana, now she feels liable to help this Solas, watch his back. 

“Great,” Leliana affirms with a smile of her own before leading her through the corner tower of the battlements, “We’ll just go see the Commander and his appointee and we’ll introduce the both of you to Solas.”

Upon exiting and entering the next rook on the battlements, is when they appeared in the Commander’s office.

“L-Leliana,” he stammers as his attention sharply turns to her.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” Leliana greets, with Atisha just drifting a few steps behind her. 

“Ah, yes,” Cullen covers his blunder slightly, “Ser Berris you know our Spymaster, Leliana,” he addresses the man he was speaking with before they came in, and gestures to Leliana.

Leliana nods at Ser Berris in recognition, before stepping up and introducing Atisha, “This is Atisha, she’s a bard,”

Atisha nods at the man, but does take notice of his southern Templar uniform. Ser Berris nods in return realizing he won’t get a friendly handshake, so he doesn’t bother. 

“Alright then, Ser Berris, I take it Commander Cullen filled you in on the charge at hand,”

Ser Berris nods, “Yes, ma’am,” he affirms.

“Good, then we’ll introduce you both to Solas, and let him lay out more of his plan with you two.” Lellian explains, “Ser Berris? Have you met Solas before?” 

“Not formally, I believe he was in Val Royeaux, with the Lady Inquisitor,”

“Ah, yes,” Leliana gestures to a different door than the one her and Atisha came through to exit through. “Commander, are you joining us?” Leliana asks, turning back to face him.

“Ah, no,” He answers, “Her Ladyship is coming here to discuss a few things over out troops movements,”

Leliana nods her head at Cullen before leading the way ahead of Atisha and Ser Berris out the door, that would lead them right into the one Leliana and Atisha exited, when they left the rotunda. _It’s almost a maze through here_ , Atisha wonders of all the different walkways and doorways she has stepped through, since arriving in Skyhold.

Leliana pushes open both doors into the Rotunda, Ser Berris trailing behind her, and then Atisha who has to pull the first door shut a little as the wind picks it up. She can hear Leliana speaking, but she remains a little preoccupied with her vision readjusting from the bright sun to the dim indoors. 

“Solas, this is Ser Berris, and Atisha,” Leliana introduces. 

Atisha blinks rapidly to try and see more shapes than just light and dark areas of the room, but by now there’s a man standing in front of her, she can make out his head shape as she looks up into his face, but not many details yet.

“No clan name?” He asks, critically.

Atisha drops her head with a sigh “Nope,” she pops her ‘p’, annoyed that her being clanless seems to be the most interesting thing about her. She lifts her head as her vision is fully setting in, and looks him in the face for the second time, but finally sees his face. Her eyebrows instantly raise startled by the man she’s seen before, in front of her adjusted clear green eyes. 

He looks on at her in confusion of her startlement. Before walking back over to his desk, “As I’m sure the both of you are aware, we’ll only do regions at a time, so hopefully only out for two weeks at the most and then returning to Skyhold for another couple of weeks, I have a lot of research still to accomplish into the shards,” he gestures to the one on his desk, “and various information on the fade, and our darkspawn Tevinter Magister. You all probably have other duties that need attending as well,” he pauses. “We’ll work primarily in regions where the Inquisitor has closed the rifts, as to mitigate the danger. I would also like to roam crest-less, as to draw less attention to us if it's at all possible,” he pauses again. “Do either of you have any questions?” 

Ser Berris proceeds to ask Solas a couple of questions, Atisha kind of tunes him out as she stares at Solas’ profile, the slope of his nose and jawline, all attractive, and so familiar. Atisha catches herself from saying a prayer because, _Holy Shit! It’s Fen’Harel!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Elvhen for the book title I pieced together from FenxShiral's Lexicon. I was trying to find it to fit better for the Miserable Ones, because I love musical theatre and was planning to make it the story of the book she's reading through Les Miserables, if that was gonna be important for anyone to know, and just how simple the title is that she could read it, and then going into the huge ass book that it is. 
> 
> Also I know primarily I'm this is Solavellan, but I'm contemplating making little short chapter for Charlie and Cassandra, because it could be fun, and I know a lot of us felt denied that she could only be canonically romanced by a man.


	4. Page of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atisha meets Bull for the first time briefly. She spends a lot of time pouring over the book she found, and some time with her to be traveling companion Solas.

That evening Atisha is seated at a table at the tavern opposite Varric, both of them with their drinks of choice. “To takin’ on the big jobs!” Varric toasts while raising his glass to Atisha.

She reciprocates tapping his stein with hers before drinking down a little more than her usual guzzle. Enough so that Varric cocks and eyebrow at her. “So, does the bald mage dislike the Dalish?”

Varric snorts, “Chuckles?” he questions, even though he knows, “Yeah, he seems to think they’ve gotten everything about preserving their history completely wrong. Personally I sometimes wonder if it wasn’t because they didn’t invite him into their clans, I’m aware how stingy the Dalish can be to city elves.”

“Honestly you’re not wrong, a lot of them want nothing to do with any elf that wasn’t raised Dalish. Which makes them just as bad as humans.” 

“You gonna elaborate on that?” Varric asks, taking a drink.

“I think you need more friendship points, to unlock more of my backstory there, buddy,” she quips back, taking a drink.

Dorian saunters up to the pair, glass of wine in hand before he drops into the seat to Atisha’s left. He sighs, “I’m leaving with the Inquisitor to go hunting for Venatori in the desert.” He leans forward setting his glass of wine on the table “I don’t mind hunting my countrymen, but the desert? Sand gets everywhere, no way to have any fun without risking getting sand in your nethers.”

Atisha snorts into her drink, “Not a fan of any sand exfoliates then?” She laughs. 

Dorian gives her a pointed look, before laughing with her.

“When do you leave then Sparkler?” Varric interrupts.

“Eh, in a couple of days I suppose, Bull, and Cassandra are also going.” Dorian answers, swirling his wine around in his class before taking a drink.

“Of course,” Varric responds into his drink before taking one. “Canary is heading out on a little job with the hedge mage himself, in a couple of days,”

“Really?” Dorian asks, intrigued. “Did you meet the hobo himself?”

Atisha snorts again, “I wouldn’t call him that persay,”

Dorian lets out a laugh, “What did he say about your vallaslin?”

“Merely questioned me about my clan name, and that was it,” Atisha remarks.

“Yeah, he doesn’t much have high-regard of the Dalish,”

“I’m aware of that, if not from him, from Varric,” 

“He’s generally good company,” Dorian defends, “to me anyway, and particularly history and magic, are the best conversations. You might like him if you get to know him, and it’s always better if you have a familiarity with traveling companions, don’t you think?”

“It’s helpful, sure, I’m not opposed to him or anything, just I met him and then I was ushered on to do other things in preparation for our jaunt through the Hinterlands.” 

“Ah, well then glad to hear you haven’t written off my friend’s polite rudeness yet,” Dorian says, ending the conversation. 

“Have you talked to him since he’s been back?” Varric asks Dorian.

Dorian shakes his head, “No, I haven’t, I’ve only seen him painting and reading, which he gets annoyed when you interrupt him doing those two things,”

Varric laughs, leaning back in his chair. When a giant horned Qunari approaches their table behind Dorian. 

“Is this the Songbird, I was hearing about from Krem this morning?” the deep rough timbre of his voice questions, as he looms over Dorian’s shoulder. 

“Ah! Tiny, meet Canary,” Varric introduces.

Atisha waves, Bull nods his head before walking around the table to sit opposite Dorian. 

“Atisha, this is The Iron Bull, Bull this is Atisha,” Dorian introduces outside of Varric’s nicknames. 

“I heard you are quite the entertainer, being ex-dalish and all you had to be trained,”

“You’re not just assuming I’m Dalish, that’s refreshing,” Bull gives a small smile. “I was trained to fight and dance in Rivain, and illegally attended bard college in Antiva,”

“Illegally?” Dorian asks of her.

“They still liked to be paid, and as a then recently former Dalish, I didn’t have a lot of money,”

“So you snuck into classes? How did no one notice you, you kind of stand out amongst most city-folk?” Varric asks.

“You keep trying to ask questions beyond your friendship level,”

“Another one!? I guess I should get you another drink before the night gets too old,”

“Actually, gentlemen, I’m going to go get some sleep, I leave in a few days, and spending the last few days of rest hungover before going out with an apostate and a templar doesn’t sound like the funnest adventure to feel like shit on. So, thank you for the drink, and the conversation, but you all have a good rest of your night,” Atisha announces standing up, turning to Bull she nods, waving good-bye to Varric and Dorian, then leaving the tavern.

* * *

Late morning, just after Atisha sat with Nellana and Rin in the kitchen eating breakfast, and chatting with them. She was planning to go back and read in the gardens, but she glanced a look over to Varric and the door that would lead to the Rotunda, where Solas is, _where Fen’Harel is_. Atisha stops and fidgets with the book in her hands, before walking over and approaching Varric.

“Ah Canary, what brings you by this early in the morning,” Varric greets her.

“It’s hardly early when it’s almost noon, Varric.”

“Tell that to Chuckles,” Varric remarks, gesturing with his head to do the door behind him. Atisha opens the door and peaks in, Varric looking in behind her. And there he is, asleep on the couch one knee bent, open book and right hand on his chest, his left hand fingers grazing the stone floor. “Taking a nap before noon,”

“Does he do this often?” Atisha asks, leaning herself out of the doorway and closing the door quietly.

“Here in Skyhold, yes he does. Out and about trying to stop the world from ending, no, he doesn’t.”

“Why does he take such frequent naps?”

“Something about the fade, and spirits and demons, I don’t know,” Varric answers, then a small smile appears. “He’ll be up in a couple of hours, give or take,”

“Okay?” Atisha says skeptically as she begins to walk away from Varric.

“He likes sweets,” he whispers loudly so she can hear him, before she’s too far away.

Atisha laughs and shakes her head at Varric as she makes her way back across the main hall, to go sit under what she calls her tree, and do some more reading, and studying of the language that is all but forgotten. However only thirty minutes into the partly sunny day, and the clouds loomed down, before the rain came. Atisha quickly shuts the book and tucks it under shirt to protect it from getting wet, and immediately runs inside. 

Back inside Atisha notices Varric has abandoned his spot by the fire, she walks over to sit in front of it and dry off, and go back to studying the book. Only a paragraph back in, and she’s had to reread it half a dozen times from all the idle chatter. She closes the book around her finger saving her place that way, picks up her notebook as well and peaks into the rotunda. Spotting Solas still asleep on the couch from thirty minutes ago, she quietly approaches his desk, and chair. His desk has quite a few loose scattered papers, a stack of books in one corner, and glowing blue stone on the other. She quietly sets both books in the center, leaving the one open, before she quietly slips into the high back chair, Solas asleep on the couch behind her. She goes back to reading and taking notes, with the more silent ambient noise, all that she can hear is the occasional crow caws, pages turning, and the low rhythm of the breathing of the sleeping god behind her.

* * *

Atisha is curled up in the chair, cross legged, shoes on the floor under the desk, book in her lap, pen in her right hand twirling, while the notebook sits open on the desk in front of her. She is so invested in what’s in front of her, she doesn’t hear the movement of Solas waking up.

Solas wakes up a little slowly raising the hand that was on the floor to rub his face as he clutches the book to his chest and sits up. He softly pads over to his desk, approaching the chair, when he spots a dark clad knee poking out over the right arm of the chair. He hears the mutter of elvhish pronunciation, repeating the same word. He steps to the side to peak and see who is sitting at his desk, more intrigued by the subject they seem so intent with.

“It’s pronounced _garun_ ,” He speaks softly over her shoulder. Atisha straightens quickly with a quick intake of breath before turning in his direction. “ _Ir abelas, lathellan_ ,”

“No! I’m in your space, _ir abelas_!” she jumps out of the chair accidentally bumping her knee on the edge of the desk, “ _Fenedhis_!” she exclaims, bending over and rubbing her knee as she steps out from between the desk and chair. She leans back against the desk continuing to rub her knee. “I didn’t mean to invade your space, it’s just nice and quiet in here, and it's raining outside, that I just,” Atisha rambles on apologizing.

Solas chuckles, “It’s alright, you didn’t wake me, and you’re not disturbing my research,” he gestures to the papers not being moved from the messy piles he had them in. “However I couldn’t help noticing what has got your interest, are you reading _Dinal’Lan_?” he gestures to the book that is closed around her finger, with the one that is closed around his.

Atisha looks down at the book in question, “Trying is a word to describe it right now, I understand some of the words, but not enough to piece together what the ones I don’t know are, with the given context I’m reading.”

Solas steps closer, and tries to regain her eye contact when he almost looms over her, with her leaning on his desk. Slowly Atisha looks up at him, her hands fidgeting with the book. “Would you like me to help you?”

Atisha just looks at him, with wide eyes for a second, “you would do that?” 

“If the time allows I’m willing to help?”

Atisha smiles up at him, “How do you know the language?” she asks earnestly. Which almost takes Solas by surprise.

“I, from the fade, I’ve seen so much of the history of our people, it’s allowed me to learn the language in my dreams. It was one of the first goals I had for myself when studying the fade as a younger man,” He smiles at her.

Atisha returns it again, “So, the word ‘ _garun_ ’?” she questions her pronunciation, to which he nods that she said it correctly. “Means what, exactly?”

He chuckles again, placing both hands behind his back and leaning down to her left ear. “It means _cum_ ,” he whispers.

“Come?” she questions, “to come?”

Solas realizes it didn’t register for her yet, he grazes a finger of his left hand lightly on her shirt right above where it’s tucked into her pants, whispering “cum,” again in her ear. He can see her visibly shiver.

Atisha swallows, as the low timbre of his voice resonates in her core. “I suppose that makes sense,” she manages to get out.

Solas takes a step back and gestures to the couch where he just woke from. “Would you like to tell me how far you’ve gotten within the story, and what words you can’t make out?” he offers. 

“I,” she begins, “I would love that, _Ma serannas_.” She follows him over to the couch where he gestures for her to sit first and he sits next to her, as she goes on to explain how far she’s gotten with what she can pick up.

* * *

“So, I haven’t been able to properly translate this passage,” Atisha places her finger on one of the earlier pages, “I know the word ‘vallaslin’ of course, but the rest I can’t interpret, because it doesn’t feel like it makes sense,”

Solas reads the section she’s speaking of, already knowing what it is, and he turns his body closer to her now curled up form, of her sitting cross legged, next to him. “It’s in context of what the vallaslin meant in the time of ancient Arlathan,”

Atisha’s eyes brighten in excitement, “This book is that old!?” she looks down at the book in her hands, “It’s held together so well in an old dark dusty library,”

“I imagine it’s been preserved with magic, it’s quite a lucky find for you to have found it.”

“So, did vallaslin mean something different then?”

Solas shifts, again reaching across to set his hand over hers on the page of the book, “I know you claim to no longer be Dalish, but you may not want to know,” his voice is low and soft, as his eyes look into her bright curious ones.

“I am no longer Dalish, so my vallaslin means something different to me now, than it did before I left. Even if it’s still something I would not like, I would like to know.” Solas gently squeezes her hand in reassurance before letting go. Atisha only then realized that his hand was touching hers, and only averted her eyes in a glance to catch the movement of his hand away before returning her eyes to his gaze. Is he closer, it seems like he’s closer. 

“The vallaslin was used as a way for a nobleman to mark his slaves,” Solas pauses, breaking from her gaze, believing she would like to interject. When she doesn’t he looks back into her face only slightly morose, but the glint of curiosity is still sitting within her eyes. “He would give the markings of whichever god he worshipped, to identify which ones were his or someone else’s. It almost didn’t matter between nobles who worshipped the same gods, but some nobles had their favorite slaves,” he gripes out his disgust of it all, as he diverts his eyes from her once again.

Atisha reaches out to him, to bring his attention back by placing her hand on his knee and leaning forward slightly toward him. As soon as his eyes return to her face, “How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve read Dinal’Lan before,.. in the fade where I found an old library full of so many ancient books written at the time. This one,” He taps the physical book twice, “is one of my favorites for capturing a lot of the truth from the perspective of someone less fortunate. Finding a physical copy is absolutely priceless, Don’t ever lose it,”

Atisha looks down at the book in absolute wonderment that the item in her hands was so old, and something that holds so much cultural history. “I won’t.”

He smiles at her, it turns sad for a split second before he stands up. “You are welcome in here anytime whether I am here or not to continue reading if you like,” He stands in front of her, “Most of the meaning of the text you are grasping quite well, I would not have chosen this one for someone to learn the language from, but I’m glad it was your instinct on this one.”

Atisha dislodges her feet from under her and goes to stand up, “Thank you, Solas, this has really meant a lot to me,” he smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach his sad eyes. 

“We’re departing the day after tomorrow, Lelliana made me aware that you aren’t able to keep your current quarters when we do so.” he pauses, “You’re welcome to keep any personal belongings here that you don’t want to take with, until a more permanent solution is found for you,”

“ _Ma serannas_ , I really don’t have much as is,”

“Of course, _Lethallan_ ,”

Atisha goes to leave him to his own research. Hand on the door knob she quickly spins around to face him, he is now bent over his desk looking through one of his books. “Before you get too invested, would you like to grab a late lunch with me?”

Solas looks at her with some surprise on his face. Then the pause of silence is interrupted by a small rumble noise that came from the center of the room where Solas is.

Atisha laughs before going over to him and wrapping her fingers around his forearm, “come on then, did you even have breakfast before your nap?” Solas chuckles with her as they head out of the Rotunda and she leads them to The Herald’s Rest.


	5. Three of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Atisha grow a little closer as they spend more time in one another's company.  
> Atisha meets Cole, Sera, and Charlie for the first time.

“Solas,” Atisha breaks the silence that was between them in the rotunda since the morning started. Her sitting at his desk invested in _Dinal’Lan_ , while Solas was up on the scaffolding, painting. Not wearing his sweater, Atisha watched the way his sculpted arms moved, and his back underneath his sleeveless undershirt. 

“Hmmm?” he responds in question, responding to her, but continuing with his work, leaving his back turned to her.

She stares at his back a moment longer, admiring him, _Why am I like this?_. “Do you wanna take a moment and take a walk before the sun sets?”

Solas visibly pauses, and turns brush and palette in hand. He looks at her as she places a marker in between the pages in the book, and closes it on his desk as she gets up and stretches. His eyes admire her form as she arches her back to stretch out any of her kinks from sitting for so long. He turns a quick eye to where he was painting, “I should probably let this dry more before continuing, and fresh air is always welcome,”

Atisha smiles at him while he sets his brush in a small mug of water on the floor of the scaffold with a few other brushes. He carries the palette of paint down with him to set on his desk once he’s in front of her. He reaches behind her for his sweater that was draped over his chair, and goes to pull it over his head. Atisha’s eyes lower to the wolf jaw necklace that is around his neck, _he didn’t take it off to paint_. She removes her gaze from his chest as it’s covered in the soft beige of his sweater. He untucks the bone so it’s displayed.

“Shall we?” he asks leading to the door that leads toward the battlements, one of the best places to feel the sun.

“Let’s,” she agrees. 

Out in the sun of the western side of the keep the sun is still comparatively high and bright, immediately feeling the warmth in the high altitude. Atisha stops a ways down on their walk to lean against the short section of stone wall, and face the sun as it warms her with a relaxed smile on her face. “Don’t you just love the warmth of the sun when it’s cold out?” she asks Solas not looking at him, but feeling his presence as he settles in next to her. He leans his hip into the wall, so he can look at her. Her happy disposition, brings a small smile to his own lips.

“It is one of life’s most simple joys,” He says softly, admiring the profile of her face. She hums in agreement, eyes still closed as she bathes an extra moment in the light. Solas admires her quietly for a moment before breaking the silence. “Why did you leave your clan?” he asks her softly as she notices the shiver that runs through as the wind picks up a breeze across them.

Atisha sighs and drops her head. “I,” she begins, trying to formulate a way to start an answer to that formidable question without giving up too much information than she’s ready to give. She inhales deeply, and lifts her face to stare straight out into the clouds, “There’s a lot to unpack, because the real answer is because I never belonged there,” she breathes in, and out still staring out.

Solas moves closer and places a hand on her shoulder, “You don’t have to tell me if you do not want to,” he reassures her. “It’s rude of me to ask,” he slides his hand off of her shoulder.

Atisha sharply turns her head to him, and grabs his hand, “No!” she says more intently than she meant to. “I want to,” she says, eyes sliding back to the clouds, and letting out a sigh. Bringing her eyes back to his face, “I don’t know why, but I do. I just,” she closes her eyes and inhales, eyes opening on his “it’s just something I’m not ready to tell,”

Solas flips his hand over in hers, her eyes immediately drop to their hands. He holds it and begins to rub his thumb in circles on the back of it, “Atisha,” he says to pull her attention back to his face. “You don’t have to tell me,”

Atisha releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and inhales with a sob. Solas pulls her close to himself, she wraps her arms around his waist, her face in his chest.

“ _Telin_ they’d call me, and spit at my feet as I walked by. _Torlan_ they’d say when I approached them.” a voice whispers from behind Atisha. She tenses in Solas’s arms, he reaches one hand to the back of her head to massage her scalp and ease her tension.

“Not now, Cole,” Solas whispers gently to the voice that appeared near them.

“I only wish to help,” 

Atisha turns in Solas’s arms, wrapping her arms around his arms around her, to protect her from the names of her childhood. “How do you know that?” Atisha questions Cole, in the smallest voice that has come from her own lips in so long.

Solas answers quickly for him, “Cole here, is a spirit,” Atisha turns her head to look up at him with a quizzical brow raised. “One of compassion and kindness, he probably felt your distress, and came to help, it’s his nature to find the parts of our pasts that hurt us the most and try to heal them,”

“They are not gone so long as you remember them,” Cole says to Solas who takes a deep breath, “You didn’t do it to be right, you did it to save them,”

“Cole,” Atisha speaks to him, feeling Solas’s discomfort from behind her. “I think neither of us are ready for the other to hear our personal pain.” She can see the pause and understanding slowly ebb in across the young human boy’s face.

“Ah, okay,” and with the blink of an eye he’s gone.

Atisha looks around quickly unaware of where he went. Solas laughs, and she is still close enough to him to feel the rumble of his chest on her back. She slowly lets go of his arms around her, and he slowly drops them as well, before the both turn to face the now setting sun, in a comfortable silence. Leaning on to the wall with their elbows

“If you ever want to talk about it, Solas, I’m here for you,” Atisha says staring out into the sun, clouds, and mountains.

“It is only a mistake from a younger man who thought he knew everything,” he takes a deep breath, and releases it. “One of many,” he says softly, before resuming their shared silence. When the sun was finally behind the mountain. Solas reached over and grabbed Atisha’s hand and spoke once more, “When you’re ready to share your burdens, I’m here for you, _Lethallan_ ,”

Atisha looks at their hands, and back up into his face. “I,” she pauses, “ _Ma serannas_ , Solas,” she squeezes his hand with hers before releasing it and turning back around. “We should probably eat, and prepare for setting out tomorrow morning,” she suggests looking toward the path back to the rotunda to gather her things there, and to head for dinner at the tavern. Thinking about talking more with Varric and Dorian before retiring early, she turns to Solas, “Do you want to come to dinner with me, the last couple of nights, I’d eat with Varric and Dorian, I don’t know your opinion of them, but to me they’ve been great company.”

“They’re not bad company, but I don’t go to the tavern much,”

“Make an exception? We’re dipping out early in the morning so it’s not like I’m gonna be there until the sun rises, just dinner and a drink then bed.” 

“I shouldn’t, I should get more things done and ready before we leave in the morning,” He declines her invitation solemnly.

“I’ll miss your company,” They turn to head back inside walking side-by-side.  
Solas laughs, “You might not say that when we return from the Hinterlands,”

She laughs with him, “Maybe, but you have such a fascinating perspective. I’m looking forward to exploring your mind over the next few weeks, as we trek across the hinterlands,” She opens the door to the rotunda just as a gust of wind picks up and ruffles her hair all about. 

Solas fights the wind a bit to pull the door shut, and walks into the rotunda to Atisha laughing and trying to straighten out her hair. He approaches her with a smile of mirth across his lips, he helps move some of the smaller strands from her face to tuck behind her ear. Which he traces delicately up to the point and back down the otherside. Her breath hitches, as he does it, and she stares up into his face. His eyes on his finger’s movement, and then his eyes slide to hers. She bites the corner of her lower lip, which draws the attention of his gaze to her mouth. He leans so minisculely forward as he internally fights with himself in the moment, she notices, and her eyes drop to the relaxed pout of his lips, encouraging him to lean in further.

The door on the other end swings open roughly, “Hey Canary, you coming down for dinner and drinks tonight?” Varric’s voice booms into the room, before Solas sees him just over Atisha’s shoulder. Atisha takes a step back from Solas. “Solas, you wanna come down too, I know you both are leaving early, but Dorian would love to catch up.”

“I’ll see, I still have much to do before we leave tomorrow,” He responds to Varric before looking toward Atisha whose ears are just turning pink.

“Well you’re welcome to come down if you find you have the time,” Varric reassures, and turns his attention on to Atisha, “Canary,”

She turns to him, “Yeah, I’ll meet you down there,”

Varric smiles when he sees her pink ears and cheeks, and turns to leave.

“I’ll just grab my books, and if I don’t see you again tonight, I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Atisha rushes out, not making eye contact, but trying to keep her face toward him to not appear rude. Grabbing both books off of his desk, she walks to the door.

“ _Dareth Shiral_ ,” Solas says just before she opens the door and leaves him in the rotunda. When the door shuts behind her, Solas slumps into the chair at his desk. He leans over the desk placing his face in his hands, and rubs at his face and scalp.

***

Atisha makes her appearance at the Tavern, meeting Varric, Dorian, The Iron Bull, a woman she recognizes as the Inquisitor and a blonde elvhen woman. _That’s a little crowded_. She walks over with a plate of food for herself and a full ale. She takes the only vacant seat next to Bull, and the blonde woman, and across from Dorian and Varric.

The blonde woman looks at her as she sits, “Oi Varric this the one you been talkin’ about, yeah?” the woman asks Varric.

“Yeah, this is Canary, Canary, meet buttercup,” Varric introduces. 

Atisha holds out her hand, “Atisha,” 

“Sera,” the woman says and grabs her hand in a firm shake, “you’re not,.. Ya know, too elfy are ya?”

Atisha looks at her confused for a moment, “Oh, you’re asking if I’m Dalish?” Sera nods, “Nah, I hopped out there not fast enough,” she gestures to her face, “obviously,” she laughs. 

“You seem alright to me,” she says before turning back around to the table.

Not more than a beat later, and another person is giving her attention, “Oi!” yells the woman at the far end of the table, the Inquisitor, Atisha remembers Varri telling her her name is Charlie. Atisha looks over at her, “Yeah, you! You the one who’s going out to the hinters with Solas!? You’re Leliana’s girl,” Charlie sloshes the liquid in her a cup a bit, she’s been enjoying her time before Atisha got there.

“Yeah,” Atisha affirms.

“You be careful, eh?” Charlie advises her, “he’s not a normal run-o’-the-mill mage, he’s a, uh,.. Dorian what’s the word I’m looking for!”

“Somniari!” he shouts back at her, rather bored with the conversation at hand.

“Right! Somniari, they be some pretty dangerous magic with their stronger connection to the fade and some shit,”

“Ma’am, no disrespect, but I do clearly have a different perspective on magic than you do,” Atisha says.

The Inquisitor eyes her a moment before moving on from the table, to go talk with some other people in the tavern.

Varric leans over to Atisha, “I think she’s still prickly about having to be constantly near him only a few days ago,” Varric shrugs and gives a little frown, “And she’s pretty sloshed, so I wouldn’t take anything she says tonight to heart,”

“She doesn’t have a very high opinion of Solas does she?” 

“Not necessarily, she knows that he knows his shit, she just doesn’t trust him, mostly because he’s a mage, and then because he’s an elf that wasn’t circle trained, so she is uncomfortable around his magic which is unfamiliar to her,” Varric explains. “Oh, and their personalities clash a lot as well.”

She snorts into her ale, at the last remark. “I think he’s an alright guy,”

Varric side eyes were, “Just alright?” he smirks, “it looked a little better than ‘alright’, to me.”

The tips of her ears start to go a little pink, “No, it’s,” she breathes, “I’m just not gonna tell you,”

“I don’t wanna poke you too much Canary,” 

“What’s going on over here?” Dorian joins into their small conversation.

Atisha shakes her head, “Just talking about her first impression on the hedge mage in question,” 

“Ah, and what does the lady think?” Dorian asks turning attention to Atisha.

“I think he’s a fascinating person, with his knowledge of the fade, and how he can manipulate it, there’s so much knowledge he’s able to be privy to,” 

“Uh huh,” Dorian responds before thinking about it a moment and turning back into the conversation with Bull and Sera. 

Atisha finishes the rest of her meal and ale, with small chatter with everyone on various random topics, she departs them to favor packing for the hike across the hinterlands, for however long. And of course to get some well deserved shut eye.

***

Atisha is back up in the northern mountains, she’s been out a few days with her usual pack of wolves, needing the escapism. The bald elvehn man from before is still with them, enjoying their company as much as all of the wolves welcome him. He knows Atisha, as her wolf shape, and is wary of his presence. Which has seemed to occur to him, to try and win her favor. Every time the pack stops for a moment of time he sits with her, and talks to her. Some talks have been small, but others have been tales of which seemed to lift some weight off of his own shoulders.

“ _Fenor_ ,” he’s adapted to calling her, “I don’t know if you can relate, to doing anything you thought you were so sure would be the right thing, to take care of those most important to you. Only to have it, destroy more of them from themselves. All because you wanted to protect them from their gods. The very people that kept them where they were, with the gift of their freedom it took many more of the gifts they all naturally bore,”

Atisha kept back tracking this confession in her head over and over, repeating it, before he slumps down on the grassy patch next to her. “And everything the people hold to be their history, is just so wrong, it hurts,”

At this remark she perks up at him, _This man is Fen’Harel_.

“I just want them to learn the truth of their history and culture, but they refuse anyone who is a _Torlin_ ,” he pulls his knees into his chest staring out into the river in front of them. 

Atisha rests her head on his knee. And they both sit there unmoving in silence until the rest of the pack begins to move on.


	6. Two of Staves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio set out for the Hinterlands, and set up first camp, and Atisha dreams of her sister who was left behind.

In the morning Atisha heads to the rotunda with all of her belongings, most in her pack. A few items in the smaller bag she carries in the hand with her walking staff. It’s still early enough in the morning that Varric hasn’t yet taken up his personal space by the fire as she passes by to the door. Upon walking through the door, she spots Solas organizing his desk collecting all the loose papers, and organizing them somehow before making sure they’re all neat before sliding them into a drawer. He straightens the books on his desk, before he steps to turn around his desk and spots Atisha in the doorway.

“Ah, _On’Dhea_ , Lethallan,” Solas greets her. He pulls open the large bottom drawer of his desk. “If you have anything you’d like to keep safe, I cleared out this drawer for you,”

“You didn’t have to do that, _Ma serannas_ , Solas,” she smiles at him as she opens the small bag to empty it into the drawer.

“You’re not bringing _Dinal’Lan_?”

“Ah, no, I didn’t want to ruin it, and I also didn’t think there’d be much time to do any reading,” 

“I don’t think, it being damaged is a worry if it survived all those years in the library, but it’s probably for the best, so as not to lose it,”

“Exactly,” she says as she empties the bag of the book, her notebook and a picture bi-fold picture frame. 

Solas eyes her walking staff, “Do you need a place for that?”

“What? You don’t think people will mistake me for a mage do you?” she jokes, he laughs, “Yeah, it’s one of the few things I kept when I left the Dalish. My grandfather made it,” 

“May I?” Solas gestures to her staff.

“Sure,” she offers it out to him to take and feel.  
Solas glides his hands over the smooth wood, and it’s carved spirals and over all shape. “It’s excellent craftsmanship,” he pauses as he feels something in the staff, “This was made for a mage,” 

“Yes,” Atisha affirms.

“If you would like to leave it behind for safe keeping, I can take it to my private quarters for safe keeping,”

“I,” she pauses, “ _Ma Serannas_ , that would be kind of you,” she smiles at him, his lips turn up at her in return, but she can tell, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“If you can take my pack down to the stables, I’ll meet you and Ser Berris down there shortly,”

Atisha nods, his pack being larger than hers, she slings his onto her back, and carries her own in her hand. They both depart out the same door, and head in different directions. Atisha takes her time to get to the stables, not wanting to be alone with a templar for however long. She is only masking not being a mage, and even then the ones that encountered her clan as a child were never nice to any clan member, even if they weren’t a mage.

***

“It’s Atisha, right?” Ser Berris asks after Atisha enters the stables.

“Yes, Ser Berris,” Atisha affirms, Berris releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They both stand awkwardly in silence for a few moments together. Berris does not want to be the man to offend an ex-Dalish elf, Atisha, keeping up her guard with someone she doesn’t trust. She adjusts her posture amongst the stall of an _Amaranthine Charger_ , and Solas steps into the stables.

“Ah, good you’re both here, I just came from speaking with Lelliana, she said we can take out one of the horses, and the two harts,” Solas says as he walks past them, and to the two harts at the back of the stables. Atisha picks up her bag, and follows Solas. “Ser Berris, I believe you know how to pick out your own horse?”

“Yessir,” Ser Berris acknowledges, and goes about his selecting.

Solas turns his attention to Atisha, who’s now next to him looking in on the two _Red Harts_. “You and I will ride these two out to the Hinterlands,”

“How will Ser Berris keep up?” She questions before her lips break out into a smile, Solas lets out a snort of a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll manage,” he smirks in return. “If you don’t mind, I ride with _Revas_ regularly, as he always seems the most restless. I hope you’re okay riding _Dalavur_ ,” Solas gestures to each stall appropriately.

“That’s fine,” she affirms, “shall we?”

Solas nods, opening the stall for him to lead revas out, and set-up for all of them to get going.

***

The first night they stop to make camp at the base of the frostbacks. The sun is thankfully still in the sky, but it is beginning to set rather quickly. Atisha splits from Solas and Ser Berris to take a bath in the river that flows behind a hill. The two men take it upon themselves to discuss the nightly sleeping arrangements.

“Atisha is out here, herself and two strange men, let’s give her the privacy or her own space,” Solas offers the first option.

“I don’t disagree,” Ser Berris begins.

“But you don’t like sharing a tent with a mage?” Solas finishes for him.

Ser Berris drops his shoulders and sighs, “No,”

“We’ll have Atisha weigh in when she comes back, in the meantime,” Solas casts magic and creates a fire, “why don’t you go find more firewood to sustain this fire,” he suggests.

Ser Berris walks off, Solas tends to the fire and pulls out the cooking gear from his pack. A moment later, and Atisha is walking back to the camp barefoot, and in a pale green soft linen night dress, and nothing else. Solas caught the form of her under that dress with the setting sun. He swallows. Atisha carries her pack over her shoulder, her armor and weapons dangling off the various loops and attachments on her pack. She places her pack next to Solas’, and sits next to him at the fire.

“What’s for dinner tonight, _Monsieur le chef_?” Atisha asks, as she leans her body into his to bump in jest. 

Solas smiles, as he puts together the tri-pod to hang the small grill rack over the fire. “We have some fresh fennec, unless you want to go fishing in the river?” Solas suggests as he looks over to her, as she braids her wet hair, as it drips the cool river water onto her chest. Solas clears his throat and looks back at what he’s doing. 

“Nah, I’m good,”

“Otherwise, Berris and I were discussing the tent situation, we were given only two apparently,” Solas brings to attention.

“Oh, well you and I can probably share, and--”

“You’re alright with that?” Solas interrupts.

“If you’re not, I **can** share with Ser Berris, but I’d much rather not,”

“You wouldn’t want your own?” Solas asks.

“I didn’t think you’d want to share with Ser Berris either which is why I suggested you and I share,” 

“Alright, I,” Solas pauses, “ _Ma Serranas_ , I’m alright with it if you are,”

“Great!” Atisha smiles at him, “then it’s settled, I’ll just work on setting up the tent, tents? While you get supper ready,” she suggests as she stands, and walks to the packed tents.

Solas watches her a moment as she walks away, and bends over to inspect the tent’s pieces. As she does the skirt of her night dress rises and displays the bottoms of her cheeks to his eyes. He turns his head quickly to the task at hand, and not to the delectable woman, who’s only ten feet behind him building a tent for herself and him. 

Atisha constructs the tent before Ser Berris comes back, she’s inside her and Solas’ tent setting up both bedrolls, and bringing their belongings into their tent. When she pops back out she notices Ser Berris has returned, and with some firewood. She looks over to him as he sits on one of the logs in front of the fire. “Do you need a hand building your tent, ser?” she asks, eyeing the mountain skyline, as the sun glimmers just above it.

“Ah, no ma’am, I should be all set, thank you,” Ser Berris responds before pushing himself off the log to stand and go set up his own tent. 

Atisha looks over at Solas and mouths ‘ _Ma’am!?_ ’ Solas snorts in response, and notices that she brought out a blanket as she fans it out to lay it flat on the ground by the fire. She sits cross-legged on the blanket welcoming the warmth of the fire.

“Aren’t you cold Lethallan?” Solas asks.

“A little, but the fire is keeping me warm,” 

Solas hums in acknowledgement as he goes to place the raw Fennec on the grill rack over the fire. 

“Tell me something?” Atisha asks, bringing her attention from the fire to Solas.

“Tell you what?” he asks. “You’ll have to be more specific,” Solas smiles at her.

“You talk of your explorations of the fade, tell me something,”

“I,” Solas starts and stops, looking into her face, his eyes tracing the vallaslin on her face, “Falon’Din, Lethanaivr his true name--.”

“I thought that was just rumour,”

Solas smiles, “No, Lethanavir is his born name, Falon’Din was his later earned title. He doesn’t only help the deceased of our world cross the veil over into the fade, but watches guard over those still in Uthenera,” He continues, pausing a moment to contemplate whether to tell her the bad news too.

“Still?” she questions.

“Sadly, those ancient elves, who enter the long sleep, and have still not waken, and probably never will,”

“That is sad,” Atisha replies, bringing her knees in, to hug to her chest.

“Yes,” he quietly agrees, and swallows. Before he can speak again to continue what he was sharing of Falon’Din, Ser Berris wandered back up to them at the fire.

“Is the food ready or is it gonna be a little longer?” Ser Berris asks.

Solas stands to prod the Fennec over the fire and flips it over, “It’s ready,” Solas replies as he motions for Ser Berris to hand him the small wooden plates. Solas sets a piece of meat on each of the three plates, along with a spoonful of mixed veggies he was boiling in a small pot over the fire as well. Everyone goes to eat silently.

***

Atisha is the first one done eating, she sets the plate aside, and wipes her hands down her night dress. “I’ll take first watch if you gentlemen want to start early on your beauty sleep,” Solas snorts at her slight joke, while Ser Berris only sighs and shakes his head.

“I’ll take second,” Ser Berris offers.

“Great! Solas, are you okay with last then?” Atisha asks as she stands up dusting any crumbs off of her dress.

Solas looks up at her from his seated position next to her, “That should be fine, _ma serranas, lethallan_.”

“Alright, then I’m gonna put on more clothes for the night, and you two can get to bed when you’re ready,” Atisha says before she turns to go into the tent to put on a pair of brown thing leggings, her armored jacket, her boots and her daggers just in case.

Once she reemerges from the tent it’s only Solas left, sitting on her blanket and tending to the fire. She sits down next to him, “You can go get some sleep now if you like,” she offers as she takes the short old branch he was using to poke the fire with.

“I will in a moment,” he leans back on his forearms tilting his head back to stare into the twinkling sky.

Atisha admires his form, the way he has his left knee bent draws her eyes to admire the length of him, his lean torso curling upward, and his neck curling back, letting the light from the moon and stars to highlight his features, his eyes gleaming their reflection. Atisha unconsciously licks her lips, and turns back to the fire, tugging the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Do you know the constellations?” Solas asks, not moving his eyes from tracing the stars in the sky.

“A few,” Atisha answers, not confident that she knows more than two.

“You can see _Tenebrium_ , he’s one of--”

“Tevinter’s old gods, _Lusacan_ , the one that’ll either start the sixth or seventh Blight,” Atisha interrupts his explanation of it.

“Yes, that is correct,” Solas begins, “but also, it isn’t just depicting _Lusacan’s_ dragon form as an owl, but to the Elvhen it is Falon’Din’s owl in the sky, and the very one that sits on the bridge of your nose,” he looks over to her.

Atisha brushes two fingers down the bridge of her nose, “One here’s that rumour growing up Dalish, but hearing more versions of the Tevinter tales makes you think they are only rumors.”

Solas sits up slowly to look at her face, as she stares into the flames of the fire. He catches the glow and flicker of the fire in her face and admires her profile and the sparks flickering their reflection in her eyes. “The story is that _Lethanavir_ , when he crossed over into the fade, he became friends with a spirit that took the shape of an owl as it followed him out of the fade. This spirit continued to come back to him as an owl, and on the day he was reunited with his brother--,”

“ _Dirthamen_ ,”

Solas nods, “Yes, and the spirit bid Falon’Din good-bye, and appeared in the night sky,” 

“It’s funny, that all of their history is just our history, but retold for themselves,” Atisha scoffs.

Solas bristles and sits up straighter, and they sit in silence for a moment both staring into the fire, as it rumbles down to just some burning coals. “I’m going to get some sleep, I sleep rather deeply in the fade, so don’t worry on my account when you come lay down,” Atisha nods her in acknowledgment with a glance in his direction before he turns and walks away. Solas stops at the tent entrance, and turns to look at her silhouette from the glow of the fire in front of her, “ _Ir abelas, lethallan_ , for I did not know,” he whispers into the night air not expecting her to hear it.

The wind carries his mournful voice to her ears, and she smiles a sad smile to herself, as she stares into the fire. Her mind drifts to her own personal history. How she misses her grandfather, she only got to know when she was young, the staff she carries and the memories of her watching him craft it for her the day her mother told him she carries magic. Her thoughts then drift to her mother, and how much she misses her smile, her voice singing to her as she braided her hair, and told her old stories of their gods. A tear rolls down her cheek that she lets roll down her chin, and she thinks about her sister who is still alive and with the clan. She shakes her head vigorously to dispel her most cherished memories as well as her most painful.

Hours pass and Ser Berris exits his tent, rubbing at his eyes in some lighter leather armor, and his sword in his other hand and not-so-gracefully plops down in front of the mild fire. He yawns and acknowledges Atisha, “You can go get some shut eye now, if you like,”

Atisha nods, and stands up, dusting herself off, even if she didn’t move from her position in front of the fire all night. She cranes her neck to trace the constellation of Tenebrium in the stars, before turning toward her tent and leaving the templar to his own thoughts. 

Inside the tent, Solas is tucked into his own bedroll, she magically lights the lantern in the tent, no one to witness her efforts. She strips off the bit of armor she wore for the night, unties and shucks off her boots, and with her back turned to the sleeping hedge mage, she pulls down her leggings, pulling them off over her feet, and kicking them to her pack. Before turning around and observing his still calm sleeping form before she shrugs herself down into her bedroll to dissolve into her sleep.

***

Atisha is picking flowers in a field a mile out from where her clan is camped. Except she is only eight years old, her baby sister, _Briahris_ , is with her. The day before Atisha’s mother just discovered her daughter’s gift of magic, and now the two of them were shooed away so the adults could discuss it with their keeper. The adults are Atisha and Briahris’s mother, and Briahris’s father. Atisha, knowing it’s about her, feels uneasy as she twists the flowers she’s found into a small little crown she places on her sister’s head.

“There you go Bria,” Atisha says with a smile across her lips that don’t reach her eyes, “You’re ready to be betrothed to your future _Falon’saota_ ” she teases.

Bria goes to swat her older sister in the arm, while holding the flower crown to her head with the other. Atisha laughs as her sister fumbles a little, she’s only five years old. And then the wind picks up the once clear sky now rolls in dark heavy storm clouds. Atisha stands up, and her sister is gone, but her limbs have grown in length. Atisha looks down, she’s still in the same meadow, but with no flowers. She’s only dressed in a light silk shift. She notices she has tears in her eyes, as she touches her cheeks, and feels the pain and the healing scabs over her face. She traces the fresh vallaslin carefully, the sky claps with thunder and the pouring rain. 

She turns in the direction she knows she’ll go, away from her clan, and as she stares into the direction of the forest at the base of the mountains, she feels an unfamiliar presence from this memory. She glances her eyes back toward the river that would lead her back to the plain where her clan is. And back to the woods, just as the rain lets up, her grandfather’s staff in hand. Dressed in dark brown foot wrapping over green leggings, and a pale green tunic, she sets in the direction of the woods, remembering the way she took, and feeling that presence with every step she took toward and into the woods. It never left her, until the sun shines through the tent, and over her eyelids as she leaves her dreams in the Fade, to begin the rest of their journey through the hinterlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _On'Dhea_ \-- Good morning  
>  _Falon'Saota_ \-- Equivalent of husband, male partner,
> 
> also the story of Falon'Din I looked at information of what is known, and just made something up, so, yeah.


End file.
